Hester's Hope

Hester's Hope
Tales from Biders Clump
Danni Roan


Copyright © 2020 Dann Roan
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 979-8654486585
Cover design by: Erin Dameron-Hill
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America


Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue


Introduction
  Hester’s path has not been an easy one, but with the help of her uncle, she will make do on what little they have. Confident her luck has changed when she garners employment at one of the city’s wealthiest homes, and despite the reputation of the occupants, she is grateful.
 Cecil Payton never wanted wealth, responsibility or two children who depended on him. He preferred the wide-open spaces of the wild west, but when his brother died, leaving him everything, he finds himself shackled to a fancy house in the heart of the city. Unprepared for the perils of business, or how to guide his niece and nephew, he is at his wits end. He can’t even seem to keep dependable servants on hand, and as the most important event of the year approaches, he is desperate to find help.
  Will an unassuming, simple woman be the answer to his problems or will she too, run from the exuberant antics of his only living kin?


Chapter 1
Hester gripped the pail in one hand and the mop in the other as she looked at the front door of the elegant brown stone building. She couldn’t believe her luck in procuring a job working for one of the city’s wealthiest families, and she had never needed it so badly.
The past few years had been lean for her and her uncle Hyke. As long as Hester could remember, she had lived with her uncle, a foreman for one of the big factories on the edge of town. Hezekiah Johnson had taken in his tiny niece before she could walk and had raised her as his own after the loss of her parents. The wiry man with the shock of white hair had been everything to the girl.
Now it was Hester’s turn to help pay him back for his love, loyalty and kindness. Hyke, as he was known to his friends, had lost his job after a tragic fire at the factory had left him with nowhere else to go. Accustomed to taking in work of her own, as she cared for her uncle’s small accommodation, Hester had sought work cleaning homes to try and make ends meet, but the pay had been poor, and they were barely holding on to the roof over their heads.
Squaring her shoulders, Hester turned toward the servants’ entrance below street level of the brownstone. There was no point wasting time. From all she had heard, this home didn’t have the best reputation, but the fact that they couldn’t seem to keep hired help only meant that the offered wage was higher than any other place she had worked before.
Setting her bucket and mop on the stoop, Hester raised a hand to knock only to have it yanked open before her knuckles touched wood.
“You must be the new girl,” a hard faced older woman in a severe bun, snapped. “It’s about time too.” She ran her eyes over Hester critically. “You look stout enough,” she added with a nod pulling the door wide. “I hope you’re up to the task. We have much to do and little time before guests arrive. Get in and we’ll get started.”
Hester gaped, not sure what to say as the woman waved her in. “I’m Hester,” she finally managed.
“Fine, fine. I’m Mrs. August, the housekeeper here, and I hope you’re ready to get to work, not that it will matter much, you’ll like as not be gone before you begin in this house.”
Hester felt a wave of annoyance wash over her as she stepped into the orderly kitchen. “I haven’t even started yet,” she said lifting her chin, “I don’t think you should dismiss me quite so soon.”
To Hester’s surprise the older woman grinned. “Well you’ve got pluck, that’s refreshing. You’ll need it if you plan on making it at this mad house. Cook, coffee!” Mrs. August snapped. “We might have some hope after all if this girl has as much heart as she does hair.”
The house keeper ran her eyes over Hester, taking in the faded dress, work worn hands, and mass of chestnut hair, piled loosely on her head.
A harsh huff from a portly woman sweating over a sparkling cook stove made Hester blink.
“She don’t look like much,” the woman turned pouring coffee into a chipped mug and thrusting it at Hester. “Kinda’ skinny if you ask me.”
“That’s enough cook.” Mrs. August nodded for Hester to take the coffee. “Drink up,” she said. “We’re already behind schedule for the day.” She shot a glance at the mop and bucket Hester had brought with her. “I don’t see why you brought those,” her dark eyes snapped back to Hester. “We have everything you’ll need here, except courage.”
Hester’s head was spinning. She had never been greeted in such a manner before. In the other homes, where she had come to scrub floors, fireplaces, and flagstones, she had been expected to do her work quietly, keeping out of everyone’s way. Perhaps the rumors about this home were true and everyone living in it was mad.